


In the Shire Reckoning: 1422

by Thuri



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-21
Updated: 2003-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thuri/pseuds/Thuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third anniversary of the Battle of Pelennor fields.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shire Reckoning: 1422

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://sunhawkaerie.livejournal.com/profile)[**sunhawkaerie**](http://sunhawkaerie.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Couldn't have finished it without her! Takes place when the quest has been over for nearly three years.

1422: With the beginning of this year the Fourth Age began in the count of years in the Shire; but the number of the years of Shire Reckoning were continued.  
March 15: Meriadoc is again ill.

"Oh, muck," Merry muttered to himself, as the quill fell from his fingers yet again and skittered across the page in front of him, leaving a trail of ink behind. He rubbed his numb right hand with his left, regarding the ink splotched paper in front of him with disgust. ‘ _Any lad or lass just learning their letters could write neater.'_

He sighed, hoping Estella hadn't heard him. She was visiting at Brandy Hall, where he'd been spending much of his time the past few weeks. The house in Crickhollow was too empty when Pippin was in Tuckborourgh. She'd escaped into his study, to read she'd said, but in truth to avoid the many relatives who'd wanted to quiz her. She knew he'd ask no questions or be bothersome. That he would, in fact, let her read all afternoon uninterrupted. It amused them both to keep up the facade of courting, throwing off the suspicions of their many aunts and uncles.

Merry shivered, feeling the chill of his right fingers. "Damn," he cursed softly. He'd hoped it wouldn't happen this year. That he'd escape it.

"What's wrong, Merry?" Estella asked from the sofa, setting down the book she was reading. "Herbs fighting back are they? Or is it the Rohan history?" She'd grown used to the muttered grumbling from Merry when he was writing, but hadn't yet heard him swear.

He turned to tell her everything was fine, and his numb arm swept the contents of his desk, save only the ink well, off onto the floor. "Muck!"

"Oh dear. Are you all right?" Estella asked, jumping up from the sofa and kneeling down to help him pick up the scattered papers.

"Estel, let me," he said, awkwardly pulling her to her feet with one hand. "You're here as a guest. You shouldn't have to clean up after me when I'm being a clod."

She grinned at him as she straightened a stack of papers. "Oh, Merry, don't fuss. I'm happy to help."

He steered her back to the sofa. "Maybe you are, but it's my mess. Sit and let me see to it."

She rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, knowing better than to argue with him in this mood. He could feel her watching him fumble one-handedly to gather up the papers and books on the floor, returning them to his desk. "Merry?"

"Hmm?" he asked.

"What's wrong? Why aren't you using your right arm?"

The simple question caught him off guard, and he was surprised to feel tears in his eyes. "Nothing. It just fell asleep when I was writing," he lied, hoping she'd accept the explanation.

"Merry, you write with your right hand," she countered. "Now come over here and let me see it."

"There's nothing you can do about it. I'm fine." His jaw jutted out stubbornly.

"Who's the healer in the room?" she demanded. "I'll tell you if you're fine or not. Now sit and let me see to it," she said, consciously using his own words against him.

Merry did so, mostly from a desire to keep her from getting upset. Estella had a biting tongue when she was roused. He sat beside her and reluctantly let her take his arm in her hands. She untied his cuff and rolled up his sleeve. "You're awfully cold," she said, examining his hand closely.

"No, actually, I'm not," he replied, laying his left hand over one of hers. "Not anywhere else, anyway."

Estella gasped at the difference in temperatures, but continued her inspection. He knew she would find no mark, but his right arm was paler and colder than the rest of him. "Can you squeeze my hand?" she asked, slipping it into his. He tried, but his fingers closed only slowly and gently around hers. "All right, I don't know what's wrong with you," she admitted. "But something is. So either you tell me, or I'll tell Pippin when he gets here."

He glanced up at her in surprise at the threat, and saw determination in her dark green eyes. "I'll tell you," he said grudgingly. "But first can you help me with it? I do know what to do."

She was surprised at this. Merry rarely asked anyone for help and never since he'd returned. "Of course, Merry. What do you need?"

He told her, and she made her way out of the room as quickly as she could.

Merry lay back on the sofa cushions, swinging his legs up and stretching out. He cursed softly. ‘ _I'd hoped it wouldn't turn out this way. Even when Frodo told me his wound bothered him every year, I hoped I would be different. I wasn't actually wounded. I wasn't stabbed, as he was. But this is the third time.'_ Every year, on the anniversary of the Battle of Pelennor fields, Merry's arm bothered him. _‘I don't think I can stand it again. It wouldn't be that bad, if it were just the arm. I can deal with the cold, the numbness. Even the pain, after. But the dreams . . . I don't want to face them again.'_

Merry took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. He shifted his position, his arm feeling ever more like a deadened weight. ‘ _I wonder if Strider knew it would do this?'‘_ The former ranger had said he'd be fine and sustain nothing more than memories from the injury, yet it hadn't worked out that way.

Estella returned, carrying a tray. She set it down on the small end table by the sofa. "All right. I've got boiling water and the dried kingsfoil. What should I do?"

"Crumble the kingsfoil in the bowl and pour the water over it."

"You're not going to drink it, are you?" she asked in disbelief.

Merry smiled. "No. It's just the steam will help."

So she did as he said, and pulled a chair to the edge of the sofa beside him, taking his right hand as she sat. Soon the cleansing scent of _athelas_ filled the small room. Estella rubbed the stiff fingers between her hands, massaging them gently. "And where did you learn this, then?" she asked, "For I feel refreshed and light, and you've some warmth in you now."

"From Strider." Merry replied, wincing as he watched her. He could see her fingers moving over his own, but could barely feel them. Seeing the wince, she released him. "No, don't stop, Estel. You're not hurting me. Your hands help."

So she began the gentle massage again, working her way up his arm and back down. "Well then, Merry-my-lad. You have a tale to tell. What's this all about?"

Faced with the need to explain himself, he was at a loss. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I'm not sure where to start," he said finally. "I've only talked about it once before."

"With Pippin?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. Not with Pippin. Never with Pippin. He was there for part of it and knew the end, so I never had to tell him. No, I spoke of it with Strider and Gandalf, during the healing. I imagine Frodo put it in his book, but I've never read that part. I didn't want to remember." His gray eyes were unfocused, looking back into the past.

"Oh, Merry," she said softly, "Never mind. I shouldn't have asked."

"No," he replied, turning his gaze to her. "It's all right. You are a dear friend, Estella. And I can hardly expect you to ignore an injury, being a healer and all." He took a deep breath. "I suppose I should tell someone about it. Maybe this will stop happening if I do." He gestured at the limp hand in hers.

"Well, then, tell me. But stop if you need to." She leaned back in the chair cushions, not releasing her hold on his hand.

"It was at Pelennor Fields," he started, his eyes again looking inward, three years before. "I wasn't supposed to be there. I'd begged Theoden, and he'd refused. So I snuck after him, under the cloak of a rider named Dernhelm."

He knew that this much wasn't new to her. Estella had heard many of the stories of Merry and Pippin's adventure, and knew who Theoden and Dernhelm were. But he'd never spoken of it to her. Pippin had, several times, and Merry knew she'd heard he'd been wounded. But never where or how.

She said nothing, just continued her massage, working her way up his forearm, pressing firmly into the muscles.

"I should feel that," he said, watching as she worked, his voice flat and disinterested in his own ears. Then his eyes darkened again as he continued his tale. "I was carried into the battle under that cloak, no harm coming to me. Until . . ." he drew a deep breath of the _athelas_ scented air, " . . . until the Nazgul came. Fear overtook all who fought, and the horses ran wild. I was thrown, and Theoden was crushed by his own mount. The witch king's fell beast settled on the noble steed, and only Dernhelm and I were left to face it." He spoke in a trance, as if reciting a tale that had happened to someone else, his eyes wide and staring. "Then Dernhelm cast off his disguise, and proved to be Eowyn. She killed the beast, and, while the Nazgul was so distracted, I came up behind and thrust my sword into him. And Eowyn clove him and he disappeared, his armor an empty shell."

Estella watched his eyes slowly lose their haunted look as he breathed the scent of the steam. "And?" she asked quietly, when he didn't seem likely to continue.

He snapped back to reality immediately, meeting her eyes. "And then my sword arm was numb and I could not use it," he said simply. "I fell into a dark dream that Strider eventually woke me from, with the help of _athelas_ , kingsfoil. He said at the time that I would recover fully, but . . . " Here he trailed off.

"How often does this happen?" she asked.

"Once a year. On the anniversary of the battle. Three years ago today." The pain gradually left his face, and he seemed his almost his normal self again. He shrugged. "Mostly it's bothersome, because I can't hold a quill until the feeling returns."

"You've never told Pippin." It was not a question.

"No."

"Why not? It can't have been easy to hide from him. I'm impressed with you on that count." She shook her head at him, a rueful smile on her face.

He returned it for a moment. "You needn't be. He's not been here in Buckland during March the past two years. And I've always recovered by the time he returned. As to why I haven't told him . . . well . . . he understands, you see. He knows, because he was there in the House of Healing watching over me before Strider came. He saw me almost slip away from him. I can't remind him of that." A darker look crossed his face, and he felt tears in the corners of his eyes. "He'd make me talk about the whole thing, " he continued, much softer. "And I can't. I can't, not to him. Because if I speak of it, I'll remember who I was then, that I was able to kill without question. And who he was, a man of Gondor, a knight hard and bold, not a hobbit at all. I'll see him as he was after the last battle, battered and broken, dying and leaving me and I can't . . . " He spoke faster and faster, forcing the words past the fear. "I can't let myself remember, I can't . . ." he trailed off into incoherent sobs, and Estella held him tightly until they passed.

Eventually he stilled, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't want to remember that Merry, because I don't want to be him again, Estel. He wouldn't be happy, here. He wouldn't be content to help his father order the planting of fields and the disputes of his family. The knowledge that he'd inherit the office of Master of the Hall would stifle him. That Merry would convince Pippin to ride off with him for Rohan without a backward glance. And I can't do that. I can't leave." He rubbed his temple with his free hand.

"How does Pippin feel?" Estella asked gently.

"What?"

"Is he stifled by the Shire? Does he want to escape?"

"I don't know," Merry admitted. "But I don't think so. And I wouldn't go without him. I don't even really _want_ to leave. Not yet." He was silent for a moment. "But I think I understand why Frodo did, despite how much Sam and Rosie loved him. Sometimes . . . sometimes I even envy him."

They were both silent for long moments, few sounds in the room but the gentle susurrus of the wind sweeping leaves against the window. Far away, Merry heard muffled laughter and the shrieks of small children, all part of the constant hum of life in Brandy Hall. It made him ache suddenly for the silence and solitude of Crickhollow.

"I think I understand." Estella said at last. "At least, as well as I can. Much of what you've told me . . . It's something out of a tale, Merry. Oh, I know it's true, it happened. I'm holding proof of that in my hands." She looked down at his hand in hers, lightly tracing his fingers. "But . . . it isn't real to me. Not the way the Shire is, like my friends and family are. Or even like Sharkey and his men were. Maybe that's why you can tell me. Because you know I can't understand, not the way Pippin would. I'd help you fight your demons if I could, but I don't even know the shape of them. Pippin does."

She smiled a bit. "Your tales of Rohan and Gondor amaze me. I even wonder, sometimes, what they must be like, but I feel no need to go there. You do. And Pippin would leave with you in a second, if you asked it of him." She brushed hair from his eyes. He marveled at the care and compassion on her face. "And someday you will. But I thank you for staying now. For I will miss you when you go." She grinned crookedly. "What other lad could I find that would pretend to woo me? That would not care when I visit with my lass?"

He smiled weakly in return, amazed again at how well she knew him. "I do love the Shire," he said softly. "I will stay here as long as there is need of me. And I'm sorry I have not told you before. I owe you that much, for your friendship alone."

"There was no need to, really. I have always known the Shire could not hold you forever. Or Pippin. But I am glad to know you won't try to leave without him." She straightened, brushing loose hair back from her face. "I understand why you hide this from him for now. He will find out someday, Merry, but I understand. I'll stand beside you when he does." She sighed. "So, how long does it last?"

He wrinkled his brow. "Which part?"

"How many parts are there?" she asked in exasperation.

He felt an unexpected laugh bubble up at her expression, and she smiled. "Only two, really. My arm is usually numb for a day or two before I really notice a difference, then it takes another few days to come back to normal after the _athelas._ " He hesitated, then decided not to mention the dreams. If she stayed much longer, she'd learn of them anyway.

A frown crossed her face. "How can you not notice?"

He shrugged one shoulder, and tried to keep his tone casual. "Oh, it's partly numb all the time, so it's only when it gets bad that I can tell a difference."

As he expected, she did not let this slip by her. "It's numb all the time?"

"It's just not as sensitive as my other hand. Not as easy to use. Makes everything I do more difficult, when it's stiff. And there are times even I can't read my writing." He looked deeply into her eyes, and saw the fear in them. "It's really not that bad, Estel."

"Well, I suppose," she said doubtfully. "You're the one who lives with it, not me." She leaned back in her chair, easing her shoulder muscles. "You did give me a fright, though."

"I'm sorry," he said, earnestly. "You know I wouldn't do anything to upset you if I could help it. I wish . . . " He paused. "Never mind."

"What?"

"I was going to say I wish you hadn't found out, but it didn't sound right. Because I am glad you were here."

A smile crossed her face. "I'm glad I was, too. You need to let other people take care of you sometimes, Merry." She glanced up at the clock above the mantel. "Pippin and Dia should be here soon," she said, the smile becoming stronger. "It will be wonderful to see her. Them. Not that you aren't decent company, most times, but, well, you know what I mean."

He did indeed. Diamond and Estella shared much the same relationship as he and Pippin. But as Diamond was underage and very much under her mother's thumb, it wasn't often she could get away to see Estella. However, no mother in the Shire refused when Peregrin Took came calling, and he brought Diamond with him on visits to Brandy Hall whenever he could. The four oftentimes laughed over the arrangement, and how easily it fooled their relatives. They could even meet without chaperones, as both Merry and Pippin were trusted implicitly throughout the Shire. "And they're not far wrong, at that," Diamond had once said, with a toss of her sun-lightened brown curls, "Estella and I are safer with you than with any other lads. No worries of stolen kisses and whatnot."

Pippin had shuddered. "Especially the whatnot."

Merry smiled at the memory. "I know." His expression darkened. "I wish I could say I was as happy to see Pippin. But . . . I can't hide this from him, Estel. He'll know."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, Merry, I think he will. But I leave it up to you, if you want to try and fool him."

"Is it wrong of me to hope I can?" he asked, very softly, his eyes again faraway.

"I don't know," she replied. "I think if I was him, I'd want to know. I'm just your friend, and I wished I'd known earlier. But, hearing why you haven't told him . . . " She sighed. "I just don't know, Merry. I'm sorry."

He managed a small smile for her. "Don't be. It wasn't a fair question." He pulled himself into a sitting position, settling his right hand in his lap. "I'll not ask you to lie for me, Estel. But if you could keep from mentioning it to him . . . "

"I can manage that, Merry." She stretched, yawning hugely. "I'll be as discreet as you want me to."

"You look exhausted," he observed, as she yawned again.

"I am. But I don't want to brave the trip back to my room. Honestly, there are so many Brandybucks in the place, I can't move for tripping over them. And they all want to know when we're getting married." She scowled.

"Be glad you don't live here," he countered. "Every time I come back, I find I wish I'd stayed in Crickhollow within an hour or so. But you're welcome to take a nap here on the sofa, if you wish. I'll just be reading."

"I'll take you up on that." They traded places, Merry settling himself carefully into the huge armchair, as Estella laid herself down on the sofa. "Wake me for tea."

"I'll do that, Estel," he said, opening the book he'd left on the end table. _‘At least I can turn pages with one hand.'_

"Why do you call me that?" she asked, sleepily.

"Estel?" he asked. She nodded. "I've called you Estel for seven years and you're only now asking?"

A soft laugh answered him. "Well, I've meant to. I just never think of it."

"Well," he said, "it's a little embarrassing. It's from a joke Frodo and I had."

"Now I'm interested. What joke?"

"Estel is the elvish word for hope," he answered. "Frodo said that's what you'd given me, when he found out about our scheme of fooling the relatives. Hope that I could put off getting married awhile longer. And he said it worked well with your name." He shrugged. "I didn't say it was a good joke, but I thought it suited you better than Stella."

"Oh," she said, yawning again. "I do like it. Frodo liked word games, didn't he?"

Merry smiled, feeling the accustomed ache that talking about his older cousin always gave him. "Yes. Especially when they involved elvish. Because then he was the only one who understood."

She chuckled softly. "You miss him, don't you?"

"Very much. But he had to leave. I know that." He blinked back the tears that rose unbidden. "He changed too much to stay here. But I wish . . . " he trailed off as he realized she was asleep. _‘I wish you could have been healed, Frodo. That Sam's love had been enough for you, as Pippin's is for me. But then you were injured much more deeply than I.'_ He tried to forget, concentrating on the book in front of him. Gradually, it worked and the words on the page took him away.

 

It was to this scene that Pippin arrived home some time later. "Hullo, Merry," he said coming through the doorway. "And how . . . "

"Shhhh," Merry warned him, gesturing to the sleeping lass.

"Oh, sorry." Pippin came around the sofa and kissed him. "I didn't see her there."

"That's fine, just be quiet."

Pippin took the place of Merry's feet on the foot stool, and gestured for Merry to put his feet in his lap. Merry did so, and let out a small groan as Pippin began massaging them. "And what's that for, then? You're the one who's been traveling today."

Pippin grinned at him. "I haven't been able to give you comfort for a month, love. Let me indulge myself."

Merry relaxed back, letting his eyes close as Pippin eased aches in his feet he didn't know he had. "Where's Dia?" he asked sleepily, realizing she hadn't come in with Pippin.

"She's in the kitchen, with my nephew, Erling. Who's trying to beg for food. He's giving the cook the look you and I used to and she's decided they've been starving him in Tuckborourgh. Dia was listing off everything he'd had to eat today alone when I left. The lad's practically asleep on his feet, but you know what he'll do for food."

"Aye," Merry replied absently. "Takes after his uncle that way."

Pippin pinched a toe in retaliation. "And how many times did I suggest sneaking back to the kitchen in the middle of the night? Hmmm?"

"Three or four times a week, Imp, as I remember."

"I know that's how often we went, love. But it was always your idea."

Merry poked his toes into Pippin's belly. "Usually because the growling of your stomach kept me up at night."

"Not my fault you're a light sleeper," Pippin grinned unrepentantly and tugged the curls on Merry's toes. "How've things been here in the past few weeks?"

Merry shrugged, groaning as Pippin's fingers hit an especially tender spot. "The same as ever. You know nothing ever changes here. And in Tuckborourgh?"

Pippin shook his head with a grimace. "Nothing ever changes there, either. Although Erling learned a new word."

Merry raised an eyebrow at the half-amused, half-exasperated tone his lover used. "I'm afraid to ask."

"Muck."

Merry laughed aloud, swinging his now incredibly relaxed feet to the ground. "And who discovered this?" He saw Estella wake and stretch.

"Vinca, of all people. She told him to come take a bath, and he told her to go muck herself." Pippin grinned.

Merry pictured the scene in his head, of Pippin's good natured older sister being confronted with her cursing toddler. "Oh well, at least it wasn't Pearl. Or your mother."

"No, but she was quite put out. And my father made me lecture him! He said the lad probably learned it from me, and it was about time I put to use all the things he's been teaching me." He shook his head again, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "I tell you, Merry, it was very odd to be the one _giving_ the lecture. I can't help remembering how little mind I gave them."

"You realize if we have children they'll be just like us?" Merry asked him. "And that gammers and gaffers across the Shire will laugh behind their hands and say it's no more than we deserve?"

"They'll be right," Estella said, sitting up. "But it does make it a bit hard on your unsuspecting wives. Whoever they may end up being. Hullo, Pip."

"Hullo, Estel. Have a nice nap?"

"Um, yes, I did. Did Erling really say ‘muck' to Vinca?"

Pippin nodded solemnly. "He really did. I've never seen her look so surprised before."

At this, Merry laughed. "I'll bet I have. It probably matched the time _you_ said it to her."

Estella laughed as Pippin gaped. "I never . . . "

"Yes, you did. You were about five or six, I think, and she was trying to get you into the cart to go home after a visit here. And you didn't want to."

"And I'll bet my father gave me the same lecture I just gave him." He groaned. "You see, I knew it wasn't going to work."

Estella heaved herself up from the sofa. "Just you see that any children you may have aren't a bad influence on mine, Peregrin Took," she said, mock serious as she gathered the bowl and remains of the _athelas_ on the tray. "I won't have my sons turning out to be hoodlums."

Merry looked at her in surprise. "Is there something you're not telling us, Estel? I thought you weren't planning to have children."

"I'm not," she replied with surety. "But in case I do . . ." She giggled. "I'm going to find Dia and go to bed. So don't come looking for us." The last was said with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows as she left the room.

Merry smiled and turned back to Pippin, surprised to see he'd left the stool and was standing in front of the desk, gazing out the window, a strange look on his face. "Something wrong, Pip?"

"I smell _athelas_ ," Pippin replied, his eyes dark and far away. "At first I thought I was imagining it, but when she moved the bowl . . ." He shook his head. "Why?" he asked, still gazing out the window.

Merry tried to keep his tone light. "Oh, Estel was complaining that she had a headache, and I thought it might help." He desperately tried to flex his numb fingers, hoping that his right hand wasn't as cold as it seemed. "You remember how well it relieved minor aches and pains."

Pippin didn't answer at first, his gaze falling from the cloudy evening sky to the desk. The sight of the disarrayed books and papers disturbed him. Merry always kept his desk tidy. Tidy to the point that Pippin had often teased him and rearranged the contents as a joke. "I also remember another use for it," he said softly, trying to decipher the writing on the page in front of him and failing, though he knew it was Merry's hand. "One Strider made good use of."

Merry bit his lip, watching Pippin's back. "Yes, well, lucky for us that he knew it," he said, forcing hearty cheer into his voice. "I think I'm off to bed myself, Pip. Long day and all. You should be tired, too, from the ride if nothing else . . . " He trailed off, knowing that Pippin would hear the insincerity of his tone.

"Why, Merry?" Pippin asked him. "Why didn't you tell me you still had trouble with your hand?"

Merry was silent for long moments, wishing he was anywhere else in the world.

"Merry?" Pippin said at last, an unfamiliar note of anger in his voice.

"I . . . how did you know?"

Pippin turned to him at last, love and pity warring with anger on his face. "You haven't moved it since I arrived, you had _athelas_ steaming in here, and I can't begin to read the paper you were writing," he said, ticking off the points on his fingers. "Your writing was never that bad. So, what's going on?"

Merry slumped in the chair, looking down at his hands in his lap. They looked the same, but . . . he couldn't feel the cloth of his trousers against the right. "I . . . I can't tell you," he said very softly. "I'm sorry, Pip," He rose without looking at him, and headed to the door. He found his way blocked.

Gentle hands beneath his chin forced his face up. Gray eyes met green. "You're not getting away with that," Pippin said. "You can go ahead and go to bed if you like, but you are going to talk to me about this." The fingers released him, but Merry didn't look away. Whatever Pippin saw in his eyes made him drop his gaze first. He moved away from the door. "Go, Merry. I'll be there soon enough."

Grateful for the reprieve, however brief, Merry fled.

He reached their bedroom without meeting anyone, a strange occurrence for a place as crowded as Brandy Hall, but one for which he was very grateful. He shut the door behind him and slumped against it. ‘ _What do I do now?'_ he thought. ‘ _I've spent the past two years keeping this from him. He's not going to be happy with any explanations I give him, and certainly not with the truth. I've already had to relive it all once today.'_

Merry pushed himself away from the door, trying to calm the beating of his heart. He spent several fruitless minutes trying to unfasten his weskit, unsure if it was his hand or his agitation that prevented him from pushing the small buttons through their holes. He gave it up as a bad job, wishing he'd worn a vest with bigger buttons. Or at least fewer of them. He collapsed on the bed, his head leaning back against the headboard, gazing off into the middle distance, desperately seeking a way out. _‘What can I tell him? He'll want the truth, no matter what. And he knows me well enough to tell if I give him less.'_ He shuddered, closing his eyes, and dropped his head to his knees. _‘I have to be honest. But oh, I could wish he'd stayed away for another week.'_

 

Pippin stared after Merry for long moments, before collapsing back on the sofa. He winced as the movement jarred the aches in his bones. _‘I knew that's what the clouds meant. Every bloody time it rains, I know before hand,'_ he thought, rubbing at his ribs. _‘Didn't think that troll would give me a way to predict the weather.'_ He sobered. _‘What is he trying to protect me from this time? When will he just tell me what's wrong, and ask for my help?'_

Merry had always tried to protect him, feeling it was his duty as the oldest. And when they were younger, Pippin had let him. _‘It was convenient, as often as I got myself into trouble. But he'd finally stopped, before . . . ‘_ Before. Before the fellowship. Before the quest. Everything had changed since before. And the Merry who'd finally begun to accept Pippin as an equal, to take as well as give comfort, had disappeared. He hadn't let Pippin take care of him in any way since they'd returned to the Shire. _‘I wish he knew I'd be happy to. I wish he'd let me help him.'_

Pippin sighed heavily and scrubbed his face with both hands. _‘He let Estella help him today. Maybe he told her what's going on.'_

It wasn't until he'd reached the door to her room that he remembered she would be with Diamond. _‘Oh well. I'll apologize for interrupting later.'_ He knocked.

"Who is it?" came Diamond's voice from inside.

"It's Pippin," he said flatly, hoping they were both dressed and not, well, busy. "Is Estella with you? I need to talk to her."

"Yes. Just a moment." He could hear the surprise in her voice. She unlocked the door and opened it. Her blue eyes were bright and face flushed, but he was relieved to see she was fully dressed. "Pip, you know we want to be alone . . . " She stopped abruptly at the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

He entered, feeling lost. He sat on the edge of a chair, staring down at his hands. "I'm sorry to interrupt you," he said at last.

Estella sat in the chair across from him, pulling a robe more closely around herself. "I think it's probably all right, Pippin. What did you want to talk about?"

He looked up at her, saw her shudder when she met his eyes. "Why was there _athelas_ in that bowl?" he asked, not caring to elaborate.

She didn't look surprised. "I think you know. Because Merry's arm was . . . " she paused, seeming unsure of how to go on.

Pippin ran his hands through his hair. "That's what I thought. He tried to deny it. He told me it was because you had a headache."

"Well, I did. But that wasn't why." He was surprised to hear her bite back a curse. "I told him you'd find out."

"How long have you known?" Pippin asked, trying to keep the accusation from his voice and failing miserably.

"Only since this afternoon," she replied immediately. "And he really didn't want to tell me."

"He wouldn't tell me at all," Pippin said softly, his gaze dropping back to his lap.

"Where is he?" Diamond asked.

"In bed, I expect." Pippin told her. "Probably trying to think of some excuse or explanation to put me off with. Damn! I am so tired of him thinking he needs to protect me all the time. I'm not a child anymore."

"He knows that, Pippin." Estella told him, her voice gentle. "But you're right, of course. He should've told you."

"And I suppose you know why he hasn't?" Pippin snapped, glaring at her for a second, then dropping his gaze. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. But do you?"

"Yes. And I'll give you every reason he gave me, if you want me to. I understand why he thinks he's doing the right thing."

"Please."

Estella repeated as much of the conversation as she could remember. In the end, Pippin reluctantly admitted he could see why Merry wouldn't talk to him. "That doesn't mean I agree with him, of course." He shook his head, feeling very tired. "He's probably asleep by now anyway. I'll just let it go until morning. Thank you, Estel, for telling me. And I'm sorry I interrupted your evening." He rose to leave.

Diamond came over and hugged him. "Don't give it a thought. You're family after all."

Estella smiled at him. "She's right. We're here for you. Especially when Merry's being a blockhead." Pippin smiled ruefully. "Are you going to bed then?"

"No. I think I'll take a walk, or have a smoke or something. I need some time to think about all this."

"I think that's wise. And Pippin?"

"Yes?"

"When you do talk to him, try not to yell too much. He's scared enough as it is."

Pippin sighed. "Not half as scared as I am. But thanks for the advice. I'll see you tomorrow." He left, and heard Diamond lock the door behind him.

Pippin wandered aimlessly through the gardens of Brandy Hall, ignoring the drizzle of rain around him, finally coming to sit on a wooden bench. He found himself deeply shaken, a strange feeling for him. It wasn't hard, normally, to put all thoughts of the quest behind him. It had been at first, when they'd returned and everything was so different. He still chafed against the restriction of being under age, after all he'd seen. And Frodo had been so distant. But as time had passed, and things returned to normal, he'd gradually been sucked back into Shire life. He'd enjoyed it more, because it was so simple. _‘It's not life and death if someone steals from the apple orchard, or shucks off work for a day.'_ he thought. _‘It's so much easier here. And Merry and I are happy together, which I never expected.'_

But sometimes, something would make the reality of what had happened to them three years ago came crashing down on him. As the smell of _athelas_ in Merry's study had done. _‘I don't want to lose him again,'_

He sighed, realizing his pipe was out and he was soaked to the skin. _‘Well, I was right about the rain.'_ He stood with a groan, and made his way back into the Hall, to the room he shared with Merry. He found his steps slowing, wishing he could avoid the coming conflict. _‘Oh well. He'll be asleep now, and I won't have to drag it out of him ‘til morning.'_ With that thought, he opened the door, to find Merry sitting on the bed, fully clothed, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head in his arms on top them.

 

Merry couldn't have said later just how long he sat there, thinking, before the door opened. "Oh," he heard Pippin say.

Merry raised his head. Pippin didn't look upset, just very tired and very wet. "Were you outside?" he asked, trying to sound normal.

"Yes." Pippin shucked off his wet coat, and hung it up. "I was expecting you to be in bed and asleep already."

"Well, that was my plan," Merry admitted, a flush rising to his face. "But I can't undo my buttons, so I thought better of it."

Pippin came and sat beside him, the mattress sinking under his weight. Merry could smell the scents of pipeweed and rain on him. "I could help you, if you ask," he said, not taking his gaze from Merry's face.

Merry could feel his blush deepening. He knew Pippin was referring to more than just assistance with buttons and fastenings. He slowly lowered his knees from his chest. He felt awkward and unsure, almost as if Pippin was a stranger in front of him. "Please," he whispered, accepting all that was offered.

Without a word, Pippin leaned over and undid the buttons of his weskit, then of his shirt beneath it. He slipped his hands under the fabric and pushed the garments off Merry's shoulders and down his arms. Merry saw him bite his lip when he touched the right, and felt the chill still in it. Pippin tossed the crumpled fabric to the ground and took both Merry's hands in his. He traced the fingers of the right, over and over. "Why, Merry?" he asked finally, tears gathering in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because of the look in your eyes just now when you touched me," Merry replied, honestly, but without thinking.

Pippin jerked. "What?"

Merry shivered, though he knew it wasn't particularly cold in the room. "You're scared," he said. "Scared for me. I didn't want to scare you."

Pippin searched his face. "Aye, I am scared. And more so that you didn't trust me enough to tell me about this." He released Merry's hands and stood, picking up the discarded clothing and tossing it in the laundry hamper. Pippin crossed the room to the dresser and pulled out a night shirt, tossing it to Merry without looking. He changed into one of his own, and lit the fire laid in the grate. He sank into the padded chair by the fireplace. "I've spent the last hour trying to figure out what I've done that made you think you couldn't trust me, Mer. And I can't think of a single ruddy thing. So tell me. Why?"

Merry sat with the nightshirt across his lap, his mind whirling. "You know I trust you, Pip. With anything." He walked over and knelt on the floor in front of the chair, pulling Pippin against him.

Pippin didn't resist. "Then why not this? Why tell Estel, and not me? She wasn't even there," he mumbled, his voice muffled against Merry's chest.

They held each other for a long time, not saying anything. Merry could feel Pippin's tears against his bare chest, and berated himself for causing them. The tears stopped finally, and Pippin stirred. "You do realize you're freezing?" he asked conversationally, pulling away.

"I know. Thank you for lighting the fire."

"Put some clothes on." Pippin pushed him over to the bed and the discarded nightshirt.

Merry grinned. "That's not something I hear you say often."

"You're too cold for anything else. I'll attend to it later. But now you need a shirt or something. Or do you need help undoing your breeches?" he asked with a leer.

"Well, no, actually I don't. But if you're offering . . . "

"Later."

So Merry worked buttons loose, slipped out of his trousers, and attempted to pull the nightshirt over his head, all with one hand. He got it most of the way on, until he tried to stick his right arm through the sleeve. Pippin heard his muffled curses and came over to help him. Finally, he was dressed for bed. "Get in," Pippin told him, pulling back the blankets. He slipped in next to him, turned on his side, and regarded him, holding the cold right hand in his own. "Now, what's going on and why did you try to deny it?"

Merry took a deep breath, then let it out again uncertainly. "I don't know where to start," he admitted.

"Start with the fact that Strider was wrong and you didn't recover. And why now? I know it isn't usually this bad, although your hand's never been the same since . . . " he trailed off, refusing to mention the event.

"I didn't know you knew that," Merry said in surprise.

Pippin smiled mirthlessly. "Merry, I've had your hands all over me since I was in my mid-tweens. I know how they felt before and after. And your right hand is not the same as it was."

"Oh. And I thought I'd fooled you. So have you noticed when this has happened before?" he asked. "You haven't been around, but I suppose . . . "

"It's happened before? How often? And what is it, exactly? I mean, your hand feels the same as it did when . . . "

Merry sighed, wishing he could feel the pressure of Pippin's fingers on his own. "Yes, Pip, it's happened before. Twice. Once a year my arm feels like it did right after . . . " he paused and swallowed hard, "after the witch king."

"Oh." A look of surprised pain crossed Pippin's face. "It _is_ the fifteenth, isn't it?"

"Yes. It always happens on the date. And I usually notice when it starts. My hand and arm go numb, then feel cold. But it's fine after a couple of days." He flexed his fingers, pleased when they responded more than they had in the study. "The _athelas_ helps."

Pippin snuggled closer to him, placing his head on Merry's chest. Merry's right arm lay across his own chest, and Pippin kept his hand on top of it. Merry snuck his left arm around Pippin's back and used it to pull him close. "But, Merry, why haven't you told anyone before today? And I know what Estel said your reasons are, but tell me anyway."

"You talked to Estel?" he asked, somehow not surprised.

"Yes. And she and Dia were not pleased that I interrupted them. Not pleased at all. So you have to pay for it later."

"Thanks," Merry said wryly. "She told you what I told her?"

"Yes. And I understand why you feel that way, I suppose." He sighed, raising his head and looking into Merry's eyes. "I just can't help but feel that you didn't trust me, though. I thought we'd gotten past you trying to protect me."

"Oh, Pippin," Merry breathed, stung by the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry, love. I do trust you. It's myself I'm unsure of. And I didn't think I was trying to protect you, I . . . " He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No. I wasn't protecting you, I was protecting myself. I didn't want to see you scared for me. I didn't want to talk about it. And I didn't want to remember. Not my being wounded, I can hardly forget that. But you being wounded . . . "

"Oh," Pippin said very softly. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Yes. Because I can't talk about the end of the quest without seeing you . . . in that bed in Ithilien . . . broken . . . and . . . dying . . . and . . . " sobs broke his words apart.

Pippin wrapped his arms around Merry, holding him tightly. "I didn't know you were there," he said, holding his love close. "I thought you didn't arrive until right before I woke up."

Merry pushed his tears down until he had them under control, wishing fleetingly that hobbits didn't feel things so openly. He was bloody tired of crying. "I never told you," he said simply. "They sent for me right after the battle. They weren't sure if you'd live by the time I arrived. And I still don't know how long I sat by your bedside, without even the excuse of being a guard, as you had for me. I died many times over in those hours, going back and forth from your bed, to Frodo's, to Sam's. I thought I was the only hobbit to survive the war, and I didn't want to be. I didn't want to live if you didn't." His tears escaped his control again, but now they were silent and steady, not the wild sobs of before.

"Oh, Merry," Pippin held him, and kissed him fiercely. Merry tasted their combined tears. "I never knew. I never realized you were there when we were . . . " They clung to each other, the horrors of three years before seeming very close indeed.

They pressed tightly together, fear leading to desperate passion. Merry captured Pippin's mouth in a kiss, pressing into him with tongue, teeth, and need, reassuring himself that Pippin was alive and whole beside him. Pippin answered with the same fervor, sucking and biting Merry's lips until they felt raw.

Merry pulled back, looking up into warm green eyes. "You said before that I was too cold to ravish, Pip," he said breathlessly.

Pippin's hands were burying themselves in Merry's golden hair as he returned the gaze. "Aye, I did. And?"

"That'd you'd attend to it later. Well, it's later. I'm quite warm now."

"Your point, Meriadoc?" Pippin asked, nuzzling his neck.

"My point, Peregrin, is that I want you in me."

"Mmm. I think that could be arranged." Pippin bit his neck and Merry couldn't hold back the gasp as he worried the skin with his teeth, sucking a bit. "But only if you're good."

Merry squirmed against him, feeling the heat of Pippin's mouth travel across his neck, biting and licking and sucking. "I'm always good."

"Oh, cheeky aren't we?" Pippin asked with a grin. His tone of voice changed as he pulled Merry's arms up and over his head, holding them with one hand as he licked the delicate point of Merry's ear. "That was it."

"What?" Merry gasped, struggling half heartedly against him, his heart beating faster.

"The last thing you're allowed to say. I want noise from you, Brandybuck, but no words. Understand?" He punctuated the words by grinding his hips down against Merry's.

Merry moaned his answer.

"That's more like it." Pippin worked his fingers under Merry's nightshirt, pulling it up and over his head. He paused as he reached the cold right arm, his tone changing back to normal. "Merry? Are you sure about this? Is your arm going to be all right? You can answer that, by the way."

"Yes, Pippin. Just leave it on the pillow above my head." Merry replied, panting slightly.

"Good." He slipped the nightshirt off Merry's arms and tossed it on the floor. He quickly added his own. "Now. You're mine. And I intend to use you as I wish," he said, pinching his lover's nipples.

Merry felt himself go hard at the tone of command in Pippin's voice and the touch of his hands. He let a satisfied sigh escape his lips as Pippin's mouth latched onto a nipple, roughly sucking at it, his teeth nipping and scraping. The sigh turned to a gasp as Pippin's fist enclosed his cock, squeezing. He remembered just in time not to speak, settling for a wordless moan.

Pippin grinned to himself at the sight of Merry, flushed and writhing beneath him. But the scare the _athelas_ had given him still hadn't faded, and he knew he was going to make Merry pay for it now. So he removed his hand, enjoying the tortured look Merry gave him as he pressed his hips up to follow it. "No," Pippin commanded, sitting back on his heels. "Don't move. And don't close your eyes. I want you to watch me. Tell me what you want with your eyes, nothing else. And if you're good, I may give it to you."

Merry felt his mouth drop open in astonishment. He knew he was trembling, his cock hard and aching to be touched. He knew he wanted Pippin, wanted him to take him and claim him and make him forget everything but Pippin's cock inside him, Pippin's mouth on his. But he didn't know how to tell him without talking and without moving. He groaned a wordless plea, eyes locked with Pippin's.

For his part, Pippin quite enjoyed the play of emotions on Merry's face, as he struggled to obey. He always struggled. But he always obeyed.

Merry felt himself go hot, then cold and back again, staring into Pippin's eyes. He started slightly when a hand touched his chest, but stilled the movement immediately.

Pippin's expression didn't change as he slowly traced his fingers across Merry's chest, up his throat and to his face. He traced the curve of his jaw, letting his fingertip rest for a moment in the hollow of the crooked chin he loved so well. He then caressed the full lips with his thumb, privately amazed that Merry didn't try to kiss it or suck it into his mouth. His fingers continued their journey, memorizing the planes of Merry's face as a blind man might. And all the while, he never took his gaze from Merry's. Their eyes remained locked.

Pippin continued his slow exploration of Merry's body, using only his fingertips. He very slowly traced his ears, pinching the delicate points as he reached them. He trailed the fingers of his other hand across Merry's chest, pausing only briefly at his nipples. His touch was light and gentle and was driving Merry to distraction as he tried to remain still beneath it. He whimpered.

"Aye, love, I know. You need to move," Pippin breathed into his ear, biting the lobe gently. "But I need you to stay still. Can you do that for me?"

Merry nodded, surprised to feel tears falling from his eyes.

The slow torture continued. Pippin's hands explored him all over, using the same light touch on his cock as he had on his lips. Merry fought the urge to squirm, small gasps and pants escaping his mouth. He desperately wanted to press up against the hands stroking him, to make the light touches turn rough and wild.

Finally, Pippin could stand it no longer. His own cock was throbbing with need, and he knew Merry couldn't take much more. His light touches turned firm, pressing into Merry's flesh. He pinched, pulled, suckled, bit, creating red marks and then smoothing them with his mouth. Rough and quickened breathing urged him on. Every bit of the skin he'd just lightly memorized he now covered again, both harder and faster. Merry was trembling in every muscle when Pippin finally returned his attention to the rock hard shaft between his thighs.

A choked and breathless moan escaped Merry's lips as Pippin grasped his cock again. He quickly engulfed it in his mouth. Merry was so worked up at this point that it took mere minutes with the combined work of mouth and hand to throw him over the edge. He came hard and fast, with a wild cry, his eyes never straying from Pippin's face.

Pippin sat back, a bit surprised by Merry's gaze. _‘Aye, and you told him to watch you, fool,'_ he thought. "You're right, my love," he said, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Merry's belly. "You are always good. So tell me what you need." Merry opened his mouth, then closed it and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, aye, you can speak now."

"I love you," Merry said softly. "And I want to be yours. I want to feel you move so deep within me I don't know where you stop and I begin. I want to still feel you tomorrow. I want . . . " he trailed off. "I want you," he finished finally.

"Oh, Merry-my-love, you have me. Forever. But I think I can help with the rest as well." Pippin pulled himself off the bed and retrieved the bottle of oil from the bedside table. He returned to Merry's side and slipped a pillow beneath his hips, then coated his fingers with the slippery stuff. The scent of almonds filled the room as he pushed a finger up and into his love. Merry gasped at the entrance, letting out a low moan as Pippin rotated and curled the finger within him. It was shortly joined by a second, then a third.

"Oh, please, Pippin . . . " he moaned.

Pippin was only too happy to oblige. He oiled himself quickly, then withdrew his fingers, ignoring the whimper Merry made as he was left empty. He positioned his cock at the entrance, and bore down and in.

Merry arched his back and pressed up against him, urging Pippin deeper. Pippin claimed his mouth in a kiss as he sank in to the hilt. He was buried in oily, tight, clenching heat. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back, wanting to make this last, and losing the battle with himself. "Merry, I don't think I can be gentle," he panted, keeping himself from moving only through a supreme force of will.

Merry lifted his legs and locked them behind Pippin's hips. "Don't be. Take me, take me hard."

Pippin pulled back as slowly as he could, then the careful control left him and he felt himself slam back in. Merry met him thrust for thrust, his hips rising and falling in rhythm with Pippin. The sounds of their flesh smacking over and over filled the room, coupled with harsh breathing. Merry felt himself dissolving, forgetting anything but Pippin inside him. He dimly knew his cock had risen again, but he ignored it, ignored everything but the feel of Pippin moving within him, taking him again and again, until he could remember nothing but the feeling of being forcefully filled and claimed, over and over and over. He groaned against his teeth, writhing in a pleasure so intense it was almost pain.

Pippin pulled nearly all the way out, then slammed home one final time, feeling his release wash over him and out, into his love beneath him. He collapsed against Merry, panting, sweat soaked skin slipping against him.

Gradually he regained his breath and slipped out, pulling himself off the bed only long enough to find a cloth. He cleaned them both off, then pulled up the covers and snuggled under them next to Merry. "How's your arm?" he asked.

"What arm?" Merry replied sleepily, his left pulling Pippin closer to him.

Pippin raised himself on one elbow, gazing down at him. Several clever remarks drifted through his mind, but in the end he only sighed, and tucked the arm in question under the covers, relieved to feel it was warmer than before. "This one, silly Brandybuck," he replied, kissing the palm before he placed it on Merry's chest.

"I felt that," Merry said, his eyes still closed. "I told you it doesn't last long." His brow crinkled, and he opened one eye, yawning hugely. "Why are you still awake?"

"Because making love to you doesn't make me sleepy," Pippin replied. "Wake up. I want to talk."

His answer was a snore.

Pippin sighed in exasperation and snuggled in under the covers. _‘At least he's here with me. I'll be able to sleep tonight.'_ And with that thought, he did.

 

It is not dark, in his dream. He thinks it should be. Light has no business shining on this scene. No business making the world look warm, even friendly. No business, when his heart is heavy and his world shattered. He wanders the barren field he finds himself on. Mists, or smoke, work to obscure his vision, swirling over and around him. The light catches in these mists, sparkling in vapor and dust. He pauses to admire it, admire the play of light and shadow.

He walks, walks on and on and goes nowhere. It comes to him he is searching for something. For someone. If he can walk far enough, he will find it. Find him. He continues to walk, and the light and mist mock him, hiding and revealing the ground beneath his feet in odd and disturbing ways. He stumbles many times, but always rises to walk on.

With growing panic he realizes he will never find it. Never find him. He will walk and walk and walk, alone. The field is never ending, and no one waits for him. He is alone. He runs, denying this. Runs, and falls yet again. He cannot find the strength to rise. He is alone. The bright sun shines down on him and the mists slip past. His eyes close, and finally, finally his dream is dark. He is alone.

 

Merry sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, mouth clamped shut around a scream. He shuddered and lay slowly back against the pillows, desperately trying to catch his breath, to stop shaking, and to be as quiet as possible. The last thing he wanted was to wake Pippin.

"Merry?" Pippin's voice was thick with sleep. "What is it, love?"

He bit his bottom lip, willing his voice to be steady. "Nothing, Pip. Go back to sleep."

It didn't work. "It's not nothing. You're shaking. What's wrong?"

He tried to turn away, but his arm was still numb and resisted the movement. "I had a bad dream, that's all." He resigned himself to staying awake the rest of the night. He concentrated his gaze on the embers of the fire, looking for any light to battle the darkness within him.

Pippin's hand squeezed his left shoulder gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he said flatly, immediately tensing beneath Pippin's grip.

Pippin pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned, and Merry felt the mattress move beneath him as Pippin flopped to his other side. "Fine, then. Forget I said anything."

Silence stretched hard and brittle between them, as Merry fought his demons on his own. He finally gave up on staying in bed, as his eyes grew heavy and sleep nearly took him again. He slipped out from underneath the covers, and clumsily managed to pull on his nightshirt and a robe.

"Where are you going?" Pippin's voice was muffled, but clear.

"To my study. I can't sleep. I thought I'd read for a bit."

"Oh." There was a long pause, and he saw the darker mass of Pippin's head turn to face him. "You could stay here."

"I don't want to keep you from sleeping. I know you had a long ride today. Yesterday. Whichever." But he lit the oil lamp from the embers of the fire.

Pippin yawned and blinked in the sudden light. "I don't mind. I can't sleep unless you're in bed with me, anyway. You may as well stay here." He heaved himself out of bed, pulling on his own discarded nightshirt. "I'll just build the fire back up then, shall I?" He crossed the room and knelt in front of the fireplace, making himself busy with kindling and wood. Merry stared at him in disbelief.

"Pippin?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?" He didn't mean fixing the fire. And he knew Pippin would know that as well.

Pippin dropped the piece of wood he was holding. It landed with a muffled thud, and he cursed at the sparks that flew up in response. "I'm keeping you company," he answered, as he continued to rebuild the fire. "You're too scared to go back to sleep and too stubborn to admit it. I don't want you to sit here by yourself and try to deal with it alone. You need my help, Merry, even if you won't ask for it. So I'm giving it to you."

Merry sat down abruptly. "I . . . "

Pippin finished with the fire and joined him on the sofa. He settled Merry's head in his lap, and covered him with the blanket they usually kept across the sofa back. "You're not alone, Merry," he said softly, brushing his fingers through Merry's hair. "I'm here for you, love."

Merry bit his tongue firmly, forcing back the relieved tears that tried to fall at Pippin's words. He stared at the flames dancing in the hearth, feeling the warmth of Pippin's thigh against his cheek. _‘Not alone,'_ Hearing this, after the dreadful isolation of his dream, should have helped. Should have comforted. It shouldn't have made him tense even further. It certainly shouldn't have made him angry. Yet bile rose in his throat and his teeth clenched against the urge to lash out in a rage, though what he would say or do, he knew not. He struggled to contain the feeling, to push it down. It was hardly Pippin's fault Merry could never find him on that field. Was hardly Pippin's fault Merry was always alone in his dreams.

If Pippin noticed the conflict within him, he made no mention of it. He simply continued his gentle ministrations, rubbing Merry's back and shoulder, and stayed silent.

Gradually, Merry's muscles gave in and unclenched. He felt anger and tension both drain away, leaving him empty. He sighed as his shoulders relaxed against his will.

"Better?" Pippin asked, running his hand down Merry's arm and lacing their fingers together.

"I suppose. Why do you put up with me?" He tried to make his tone light, even teasing, but the question was too serious.

"Because I love you, silly Mer." Pippin said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?" He kept his gaze on the fire, resisting the urge to look up at Pippin.

"What'd you mean, why?" Pippin asked, surprised. "What's going on, Merry? Tell me."

Merry waited for anger, reluctance, and fear to rise and again prevent him from forming the words, from telling Pippin what terrors the night held for him. They had been his constant companions for years now, and he almost welcomed them.

"I'll still love you, you know," Pippin said softly, releasing his hand to grip his shoulder. "And I'll stay here with you, no matter what it is." The strong pressure of his fingers contrasted sharply with the gentleness of his voice. "I'll not leave you, Merry."

These soft declarations broke through the tide of emotions, and something inside Merry snapped. "You always do when I'm asleep," he whispered, finally voicing the fear that haunted him. "I can never find you, Pip, no matter how hard or how long I look. I get so _tired_ , searching for you." The flames in the hearth blurred as tears filled his eyes.

"Oh, Merry." Pippin kneaded his shoulder muscles. "It's only a dream, love. I'd never leave you. Never."

"It's not that you leave. You're just . . . you're never there. I'm alone. I'm always walking and walking forever on that field, alone." Merry realized he was shaking again, tears falling unchecked from his eyes.

"You're not alone." Pippin said fiercely. "You only have to wake, and I'm here." He gathered Merry into his arms, stretching himself out on the sofa so Merry lay atop him, his head on Pippin's chest. "I'm here," Pippin repeated as he ran his hands up and down Merry's arms, seeking to still the trembling. "What else happens, in your dream?" he asked after several minutes, when the shaking finally subsided.

Merry was silent at first, still reluctant. But then the memory of Pippin's eyes earlier that evening, when Pippin had said Merry didn't trust him, flashed before him. He realized suddenly he wasn't the only one being hurt by his nightmares. "I'm walking on a field," he said finally. "It's the Pelennor, but I never know that. It's empty, except for me and swirling mists. And it's sunny, which I hate. All I know is that I'm looking for someone. For you. But no matter how far I walk, how hard I look, I never find you. Or anyone else. I'm alone. Always alone." Telling Pippin, saying it all out loud for the first time, it all seemed suddenly silly to him. "I don't really know why it scares me. It doesn't sound that bad, does it?"

Pippin shivered against him. "Yes it does. I'm so sorry, love."

"It's not your fault," Merry replied automatically, finally looking at him. He was surprised to see Pippin's eyes bright with tears. "Pip?"

Pippin sighed. "I know it's not my fault. But I still wish I could protect you from it. That I could convince you you aren't alone, even in your sleep. That I could keep you safe and warm, always." They were silent, listening to the muffled sounds of rain out the window. Merry realized he did feel safe. The ever present night fears gradually left him, and the thought of sleeping didn't fill him with dread. He snuggled closer to Pippin, relaxing his full weight against him. He was both surprised and a little hurt when Pippin gasped, then grunted and pushed him away.

"What's wrong, love?" Merry asked, getting off of him, and sitting by his side instead.

Pippin stretched carefully, grimacing as he did so. "My bones ache," he said. "Too rainy and damp for you to lie on top of me." he added, with a pained smile.

Merry marveled at how easily Pippin admitted his pain. "Let's go back to bed, and I'll lie next to you instead." He helped Pippin to his feet, then slipped out of his robe as Pippin banked the fire and extinguished the lamp. His arm was responding better, though it still felt asleep. Still, he preferred the numbness to the pins-and-needles like ache that he knew was to come. And at least he could move it again.

They both crawled into bed, and Merry wrapped himself carefully around Pippin. "Do you want to talk for a while?" Pippin asked, playing with Merry's fingers where they lay against his chest, illuminated by the flickering firelight.

"What about?" He scissored his fingers to catch Pippin's and Pippin let him, giggling.

"Anything you want to. I mean it," he said, when Merry raised an eyebrow. "I'm tired of pulling confessions out of you, so I'm not going to anymore tonight. You pick the topic this time." His tone was teasing, but made Merry regret his own reticence all the more.

"I'm sorry, Impling. I truly am," he said softly. "I should have told you. About everything."

"Aye, you should have." Pippin agreed. "And you're going to, from now on. Starting in the morning. But you can be done for the now, if you like."

Merry watched Pippin's fingers on his for several long moments, enjoying the fact that he could feel them, if dimly. "It's all right, Pip." he said finally. "Ask me anything you want to, and I'll try to answer."

Pippin's fingers froze. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, then," Pippin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Is there anything else I should know? About your arm?"

Merry slowly made a fist, then relaxed his fingers again, wincing inwardly at the sharp shocks of pain. The numbness was fading, all right. "I'm going to be pretty useless for the next few days," he said, as Pippin again covered the hand with his own. "It's going to hurt. A lot."

"Are we still going home tomorrow, then?" They had planned to return to Crickhollow the day after Pippin got back.

"Yes." Merry said firmly. "I can ride, and I don't want to stay here while it's like this. My family doesn't need to know about it."

"That's true."

Merry was surprised by this. "You agree with me? I thought you'd list all the reasons I should be honest with them, and stop hiding it."

Pippin smiled. "I think you should be honest and not hide from me, love. But your family doesn't need to know about it. They wouldn't understand the way I do. I'm surprised you told Estella."

"Didn't have much of a choice," Merry said ruefully. "You know how she can be."

"Hmm, yes, I do. And I'm grateful to her for it. Anything else I should know?"

Merry sighed. "I'll probably have nightmares for the next week, or so, too. Like I did right after."

Pippin shuddered, remembering. "That bad?"

"Aye. Though now I've told you the one, maybe the others won't be as bad. But . . . I'm not too hopeful." He shivered, and was touched when Pippin pulled him closer.

"You've gone through this twice by yourself?" Pippin asked softly.

Merry nodded against him, remembering the empty nights he'd spent alone with a grimace. "You've always been at the Smials in March. I stayed at Crickhollow, before. I would have gone home yesterday, but Estella asked me to stay, to protect her from the relatives. And I thought . . ." He sighed. "I hoped maybe it wouldn't happen this year. I honestly don't know why, just wishful thinking I suppose." Merry looked up, and saw a strange expression flit across Pippin's face. He couldn't read it, even knowing him as well as he did.

"Well, I'll not be gone again. Not when you need me." Pippin was silent for a moment, running his fingers through Merry's hair. "I don't think I'll be often in Tuckborourgh now, anyway." The pain in his voice was unmistakable.

Merry raised himself on his elbow and looked down at Pippin, who was blinking away tears. "Why not?"

Pippin bit his lip, then sighed. "Can we talk about that tomorrow? I promise I'll tell you, but not tonight. Tonight is about you."

"All right." He lay back down. "What more do you want to know?"

To his surprise, Pippin laughed. "The names of all the stars, and of all living things, and the whole history of Middle-earth and Over-heaven and of the Sundering Seas," he said softly. "But I am not in a hurry tonight."

Merry looked up at him in confusion. "What are you talking about, Pippin?"

"Oh, nothing, really. It's just you sounded a bit like Gandalf, asking me that. And that's what I told him, when he asked me." The smile slipped from his face then. "You've told me a bit of what you did while we were separated, Merry, but not all, I think."

"To tell you all would take a great while, Pippin my love." Merry said softly.

"We have a lifetime." He squeezed Merry's hand. "But I'm tired, and I think you've told me enough for one night. Can you sleep?"

Merry considered this. "I think I can. But . . . I may still . . . "

"Shhhh, love. If you dream, know I'm here. And if you wake in fear, wake me as well. I'm here for you." He yawned, and pulled Merry close to him. "You're not alone."

"I know." Wrapped as warm in that knowledge as in Pippin's arms, he slept.


End file.
